


Silent Doubts and Debts Repaid

by bastardscarnival



Series: The Cursed And The Divine [3]
Category: American Gods (TV), American Gods - Neil Gaiman
Genre: Angst, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Muteness, selective mutism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-05
Updated: 2019-12-05
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:48:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21683995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bastardscarnival/pseuds/bastardscarnival
Summary: Ash stops talking. Sweeney wants to know why.
Relationships: Mad Sweeney (American Gods)/Original Character(s), Mad Sweeney (American Gods)/Original Male Character(s)
Series: The Cursed And The Divine [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1370026
Kudos: 5





	Silent Doubts and Debts Repaid

The first time Ash stopped speaking, Sweeney and Shadow had panicked.

Well, Sweeney had panicked. Shadow had been concerned, in his own quiet way, but he’d handled it better than the leprechaun by miles. 

It had been strange, to be sure. 

The loft had bunk beds to save space. Only two of them, given that Wednesday hadn’t thought Ash was even coming, but Sweeney had no problem sharing with the boy, much to Shadow’s amusement. 

He’d pretended to “discover” them curled up together the morning after he’d spied on their first time. It had mostly passed without comment, as did all the following displays of affection between Sweeney and Ash. 

On that particular morning he’d woken up before the other two, as usual, and laid awake on the top bunk practicing coin tricks, not quite ready to start the day, but not wanting to go back to sleep either. 

Eventually, he’d heard stirring from below.

“Mm. Morning.” Sweeney’s sleep roughened voice had drifted out, followed by silence. “Ash?” He’d continued, after a pause. Then again, more urgently. “Ash?” 

Shadow had leaned out over the bed to peer down and see what’s wrong. Sweeney was laid with his back to the wall, facing out. Ash was facing out as well, with his head half-turned back towards Sweeney. His eyes were open, his expression calm but distant. Sweeney’s face was creased with growing concern.

“Ash.” He said more urgently, reaching out to grasp the boy’s shoulders and jostling him, as if he could shake him out of silence. Ash merely laid one hand over Sweeney’s, then turned towards him fully, curling into his chest and burying his face there to hide it away.

Sweeney looked down at him, eyes wide and uncertain. He noticed Shadow staring and gestured to Ash helplessly. 

“Something’s wrong.” He said, as if that wasn’t apparent. 

“Maybe he lost his voice?” Shadow offered. Sweeney shook his head. 

“Don’t be stupid. He didn’t even open his mouth. Or fuckin nod.”

“He doesn’t seem concerned.” Shadow pointed out. “Maybe it’s another one of his… things.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Sweeney barked.

“Like his joint thing. Or his ADHD. Maybe sometimes he can’t talk.” He shrugged. Sweeney considered this, looking down at Ash who remained curled against his chest. 

“Can’t even fuckin nod?” He muttered uncertainly. “Wouldn’t he’ve said something? I mean, before all this.”

“Maybe he didn’t think about it.” 

“Not good enough.” Sweeney shook his head, thinking hard. “Call Ibis.” Shadow arched an eyebrow silently. “Or get me the fuckin phone so I can do it myself.” He snapped. “They’ll know something or no one will.” 

Shadow called Ibis.

“Hey, Mr. Ibis? It’s Shadow. I’m here with Ash and-“

“Oh hello, dear boy! How goes the warpath?”

“Fine, fine, but Ash-“

“Is something wrong?” Mr. Ibis asked, concern creeping into his voice as he picked up on the tension in Shadow’s.

“That’s what I’m calling to ask.” Shadow sighed, locking eyes with Sweeney who looked like he was ready to stalk across the room and rip the phone away had it not been for the blockade of Ash’s small body keeping him in place. “Ash isn’t… speaking.” 

“Ah.” Mr. Ibis said, then paused. “How long has it been?”

“He just woke up.” Shadow relayed. “He isn’t responding either. He just-“

“Sort of stares?” Mr. Ibis finished. 

“Yeah. Has he done this before?”

“Oh yes.” He hummed thoughtfully, then said “one moment” and seemed to lift the receiver away from his mouth, for when he next spoke his voice was distant. “It’s Ash. He’s gone nonverbal.” A pause. Shadow could make out the sound of Mr. Jacquel’s baritone faintly. “No, Shadow’s on the phone. Yes they’re both rather concerned. Or, I imagine.” His voice became louder once more. “Is Mr. Sweeney still there? Nothing’s gone wrong between them?” 

“No.” Shadow glanced at the two figures on the bed. “Not that I know of.” 

“Mm. Sometimes stress can trigger these things. And this sounds like a bad one.” 

“A bad what?” Shadow prompted. 

“Episode, I suppose.” Ibis sighed. “Ash goes nonverbal sometimes. Usually he can still, well, communicate, but sometimes even that’s impossible.” 

“What causes it?” Shadow frowned. 

“We’re not sure. Like I said, stress can be a factor but sometimes there is no root cause. He’s described it as a matter of effort or will. Some days it’s easy for him to speak. Some days it’s hard. Some days it’s downright impossible. He can still understand you, of course. Just not reply. I’m sure he feels terrible about worrying you… if you’re able to reassure him that you understand, and that he doesn’t have to speak, I’d recommend doing so.”

“Right.” He said into the phone, then lifting his head away from the receiver, said. “Everything’s fine.” He said first, directed at Sweeney. “Ash. I’m talking to Mr. Ibis right now. He’s explained things to me. We’re not worried. You don’t have to talk.” 

Ash’s face appeared, half peeking out from Sweeney’s chest. He didn’t respond, but Shadow didn’t expect him to. 

“Anything else?” He asked into the phone. 

Ibis hummed. “During his episodes, I’d recommend treating him like a sentient cat. Or perhaps toddler who can’t quite speak yet. He’s not going to be good at making decisions or doing much of anything. Phrasing things like open-ended suggestions will save you a lot of trouble. ‘There’s food here’ rather than ‘do you want food’ and the like. It’s a bit of a balancing act. If you give direct orders or even prompts, he might follow them without thinking, or he might be unable to. Handing him food and telling him to eat it might end up with him cleaning his plate, or… nothing.”

“Right. That sounds, uh. Dangerous, I guess.” Shadow frowned, then saw the look on Sweeney’s face, and waved his hand dismissively, giving him a thumbs up. This did little to reassure him. He looked like he was caught between tentative relief and annoyed impatience.

“Only if you abuse it. Ash did say that if an emergency occurs, that can snap him out of it, but described the process like laying his own hand on a burning hot stove, knowing it would scald him.”

“Right. We’ll avoid that, then.” Shadow frowned.

“That would be my advice, yes.”

“Thanks, then. For everything.”

“Do give him our best.” Ibis said, and hung up.

Shadow explained what he’d learned to Sweeney who looked down at Ash with an inscrutable expression. Ash eventually looked back up at him, raising a cautious hand to rest on his cheek. 

“Right.” Sweeney sighed. “Course the little demon is fine. You’re always fine.” He murmured down at Ash who actually managed a slight smile.

The rest of the day passed rather uneventfully. Ash mostly seemed to want to sit in bed and do nothing. Sweeney managed to get him to eat a bit and spent most of his day hovering nearby. 

Eventually, he got up, drifting across the room to retrieve a pad of paper and a pencil before sitting back on the bed. Sweeney watched him closely, but Ash simply stared at the paper without moving. 

“Do you want to draw?” Sweeney prompted.

Ash shook his head, then wrote ‘had a dream’ and beneath it ‘nightmare’.

“Is that what caused this?” Sweeney asked, after reading what he’d written. Ash nodded. “Well fuck, it’s just a dream. They don’t mean shit. Don’t believe all the mystics who tell you otherwise, they’re full of it. Trust me.” 

Ash shook his head again, put the pencil on the paper, and froze. Sweeney saw this and wrapped an arm around him. 

“You don’t have to-” He began, but Ash had already started to write.

‘you died i saw you die’

Sweeney’s mouth went dry as he stared at the words.

Finally, he reached over with his free hand and took the pencil from Ash, then the pad, setting both on the ground. Hen he cupped Ash’s face, tilting it upwards to look at him. 

“I’m alive.” He said quietly. “Right? I’m here.” He took Ash’s hand and placed it on his chest. “Feel that? I’m alive.” 

Ash nodded hesitantly, shifting forward to lay his head on Sweeney’s chest, climbing into his lap as he did so. Sweeney laid back, taking Ash with him so they both reclined on the bed, Ash’s ear pressed to his heart, listening to the quiet thrumming. 

Sweeney had feared death, once. A long time ago, he’d run from it. Since then, he’d made up his mind to face it. He owed a battle. He owed a death. 

That fact hadn’t bothered him, not since he’d first arrived here in this godless land.  But the small creature curled on top of him, listening so needily to his pulse, wild-eyed and wild-curled was giving him second thoughts. 

For the second time in his existence, Mad Sweeney wanted to live.


End file.
